Posts Tagged ‘moving’
Why My Novels Aren’t Currently Available…and What I Plan to Do About It (Plus an Update about the Housing Search)
Folks, I had a few folks asking me lately, “Barb, what happened to your novels? Where are they? Why can’t I find them?”
The answer is, my former publisher, Twilight Times Books (TTB), has released the novels back to me. That means it is now up to me to republish them, independently. I have negotiated for the original covers (as I liked them) and it looks like I will have access to those. I’ll write some sort of forward and new afterword, I’m sure, too…but with everything else still in major flux, I just haven’t had the concentration I need to get everything in train.
My former publisher, Lida Quillen of TTB, has been great. I have the formatted files she used (a major help), along with other files for the covers, and now it’s just a matter of me getting a few hours of good-to-excellent concentration (so I can concentrate on writing a forward and an afterword and add that to the files, hoping I don’t manage to screw up the formatting in so doing) to get them back out there and available again.
So, for the moment, my three novels AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE (aka Elfy Book 1), A LITTLE ELFY IN BIG TROUBLE (aka Elfy Book 2), and CHANGING FACES (a gender-bending spiritual romance that’s been called “Freaky Friday on Acid” that has nothing whatsoever to do with the Elfy books) are unavailable.
I hope to have them back up and available by December 15, 2025. I’m saying this now, publicly, openly, just so you know I am working on it, and that I will find a way to get it done. (Without Lida’s helpfulness in getting me the files and putting me in touch with the cover artists, I wouldn’t have known what to do. I appreciate her willingness to help, as she didn’t have to do anything of the sort.)
While I have many short stories out there and still have the two first stories about Joey Maverick and the very first one about Peter Welmsley available (all three listed as co-written by Michael, my late husband, as these were originally his characters and much of what I had was stuff I’d expanded out a little bit), it is odd not to have my three novels available to purchase.
That will be rectified soon, no matter what, because it’s important that these novels be put back out there for my own peace of mind. I worked hard on these books, I believe they have worth and value, and it is imperative I get them back out there.
By the way, for those of you asking for a moving update…I’m in a holding pattern. I am on quite a few waiting lists for apartments, but there seems to be very little movement in the housing market right now, possibly because of the uncertainty regarding the economy. And the one day I did get a solid tip about an apartment, I wasn’t able to follow through with it due to health reasons. (It was only going to be shown for one day for two hours. I could not get there at that time. I felt bad I couldn’t get there.)
My stuff is mostly in storage and has been for a bit under three months. It’s safe, as the place I picked is reliable, and there are cameras there. The lock they gave me is hard for me to operate (I have tendinitis in both hands and wrists), so when I go there I have to make sure I have someone else with me to open and close the gate (when I went there once by myself, I ended up having to call my best friend’s husband to ask for help as he was one of the folks who helped me get stuff into storage in the first place). It’s like adding an extra obstacle to a course already full of them.
But I persevere, and do the best I can, and hope for better days ahead. Not just for me, either…for everyone I know, too, as life seems quite difficult for just about everyone right now.
A Quick Update
Hey, everyone. Sorry it’s taken me a while to get up a new blog, but I’ve been quite vexed with the housing search. When I was younger — at my first undergraduate school — it took about a month to find a place when nearly everything else was rented. But this search has gone way beyond that, especially as I started it in August…it’s well over three months, and I have yet to find a place to live that I can afford.
That said, I’ve also been battling my usual fall maladies of chronic sinus infections, general malaise, fibromyalgia flares/back problems, and of course the chronic depression I deal with daily. Being able to create helps me fight against all of that. But being in this situation works against being creative, as most of my energy is going toward either survival or finding a new place.
That said, for the moment I am still safe and staying with a family member. Later this month, if I still do not have a place, though, I’m not sure what will happen as the apartment complex here isn’t happy that I’ve been here so long without paying any rent to them. So this is the last month I can do that, though it may be possible for me to “reset the clock” by going to a hotel for a day or two. (Any longer than that, I can’t afford.)
As far as writing goes, I’ve been mostly stalled for all the reasons I gave above. As far as editing goes, I’m finally almost done with a lengthy edit — quite intense, lots of comments to make, and because it’s the last in a series, I have to make sure everything stays in good order. (This means I look stuff up. Nothing wrong with that. But any writer or editor worth anything will tell you what I’m saying right now: the work goes far more slowly if you’re having to do lots of cross-checks with previous books.) I believe I’ve done that, and it’s now just down to the final few things before it goes off to my client.
I am doing my best, in other words. Sometimes I get quite frustrated. (Actually, most of the time.) This is not what I’d hoped for, and not what my father wanted for me, and definitely not what anyone who knows me now and is still alive (including my family) wants either. Yet it’s where I am, and all I can do is my best with the circumstances I’ve got and go from there.
Tomorrow is Veteran’s Day in the US, as probably most of you know. My father was a Navy veteran, as was my late husband, Michael. I have cousins who’ve served, and many friends, along with an ex-husband (he was in the Army, back in the day). I respect people greatly who have served their country, and I appreciate what they’ve done to make this country a better place.
There’s still lots of upheaval going on around me because of governmental issues and strains, too. Everything seems to be in flux, not just me and my living situation.
I wonder sometimes if I am in the wrong place, doing the wrong things, and that I am so far off the track meant for my life (which was to be a college music teacher and performer before my poor health and finances got in the way), there’s no way for me to find my way back.
That said, I’ve done what I thought was best. I’ve helped people as I’m able and will continue to do that as long as I live. I’ve taught myself editing, and am good at it. I write, and always will write, whatever suits me: nonfiction, poetry, fiction, you name it, I can write it and probably have. I’ve used my musical talents in ways I hadn’t expected, but they have been used…and if my health gets any better, perhaps I’ll be able to use them again. (I’d still like to visit France and/or Spain someday, as that’s where classical alto saxophonists are most appreciated.)
So, while I’m battling depression, as I said before, I am still alive. So long as I’m alive, there’s at least some hope for better. I am looking for that hope, while also doing what I can to find my own, independent place to live. (It’s easier to help others when you have a place that’s truly yours where you can retreat to, as needed. A sanctum santorum, in other words. I haven’t had that now in any way, shape, or form for over three months.)
I battle the thought that I’ve failed (all of my novels right now need to be republished, as the rights have reverted back to me and are no longer for sale; unfortunately that’s on the back burner unless/until I can find a place of my own). I battle the thought that Michael might be unhappy with me (though really, I can’t see why he would be; he always thought I was too hard on myself, and this is probably just another of those times). I battle the thought that my maturity and experience may not matter in a world filled with so much automation and the flirtations with AI. I also battle my health, as anyone who’s spent any time here knows…but all I can do is my best.
This is my mantra right now: All I can do is my best.
Maybe that’s how it is always for everyone. But this sense of it being crisis city all the time is hard to live with, and I hope it’ll be alleviated soon. (No disrespect to my family member who took me in, either. That was not easy and I appreciate it greatly. It’s just that I am frustrated with this…and really do need a sanctum santorum of my own for creative reasons.)
So, that’s the update, such as it is.
How are you all doing? (Hopefully better than I am, but at least if you’re alive and kicking, that counts.) Do let me know, if you’re able…I would appreciate it greatly.
Moved Out of Dad’s House…But No Apartment Yet
The last week was very hectic, and not in a good way. I said goodbye to my father’s home, the place I was raised along with my sibs; that was not fun, not pleasant, and was quite frustrating, besides.
I did have some help to get out of Dad’s house, mind. My good friend Lika and her husband and son helped me greatly. (Note that all four of us have significant physical limitations, but we did our best to work around them.) My sister and niece helped the day before the move-out, doing their best to consolidate and remove clutter (along with getting all of my clothes into one place; that’s a handy thing, and I appreciated it). Lika was able to find several things in my bedroom that had eluded me for months, for which I thanked her profusely.
But leaving was still tough.
See, the first thing I had to do the day of the move (which was last Sunday, BTW) was to rent a U-haul truck. I had no trouble renting it, but a great deal of trouble actually getting up into the truck (as it was not a low-rise type of truck, anyone who attempts to get in there has to have better knees than I do). At first, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Then my friend Lika came to the rescue, and she drove the truck (which was fine with the U-haul people) while I drove her car back to Dad’s house.
So, one obstacle down. A whole bunch to go…
At any rate, we loaded the U-haul with as much stuff as we could find. Some stuff still got left, including many of my books and some of my sheet music (probably most of it, but as it had mildewed in the basement over the years, it would’ve had to be thrown out anyway). But as far as I know, I got out all of the music I’ve written over the past twenty-plus years, all of my clothes, and at least some household things like chairs and my bed.
We took it to the storage place I’d picked out, and unloaded it. (Actually, I mostly watched Lika and her family do this. They knew I was struggling mightily by that time.) Then we went out to eat at George Webb’s (as they’re open 24 hours), and they went home as it had been a very, very long day.
I couldn’t get everything, though. Food was left behind (mostly canned food and yogurt). There was just no room for it in my car. In addition, all the pots and pans were left, as were silverware, plates, cups…I did manage to get out the microwave, the mini-fridge, the slow-cooker, and the blender.
Because I was quite tired, too, it took me seven hours to find nooks and crannies in my car in order to take as much stuff as I could. (Lika had already taken my musical instruments with my permission, as I felt they were safer with her than with me under the circumstances.) I had a few panic attacks, and at least one of them was so bad, I thought at first I was having a true, honest-to-Goddess heart attack.
Eventually, I left Dad’s house, after saying my final goodbyes, and wishing it well during the renovation phase. It was a good house for my family, and I will miss it.
Then I had to deal with the next obstacle, which was driving a fully-loaded car on a very sunny day. I’m not normally driving at that hour, much less with so much stuff in the car. It was a struggle to keep going, as I was so tired, I had to repeat like a mantra, “Stay in your lane. Hold your lane. Hold your speed,” over and over.
I’ve never done that before and hope to never have to do it again. But concentrating on that worked, and I drove safely without issues. (Score one for the good guys. Or the good girl. Or whatever.)
But as the title says, I have yet to find a new place to live. I am on quite a few waiting lists, and I have hopes one of them will have room soon.
For now, though, I’m staying with family. This is not a long-term solution, but it gives me time to rest and recuperate. I need that time, as moving took a great deal out of me.
This reminds me of something Michael, my late husband, said. After we’d moved into our new apartment in Iowa, which was hard on both of us as both of us walked with canes (we had no help), he said that he could not face another move. He just did not feel like he was up to it. He was right, though in this case, I think he’d have rather been wrong as him “not moving again” happened because his body gave out.
This might’ve been why I had the bad panic attacks. It also might’ve been why I wondered, again, how I’ve made it almost twenty-one years without the love of my life, and thought such self-defeating things as, “Your music won’t matter. Goodness alone knows, your books certainly haven’t sold much. Maybe you’re fated to live in obscurity the rest of your life.”
All of that may be true, though I hope it isn’t. Still, I have to do what I believe is right. I’m doing that.
And if my works never matter to the world as a whole, I just have to remind myself that out of all the creative sorts who’ve ever lived, we only know a fraction of their names, much less what they did. That does not make what they did bad, wrong, or insignificant.
Anyway, the move was stressful, difficult, painful (you don’t want to know how much I hurt after all that), and frustrating. But I’d like to think something good can come from it, somehow…even if I don’t yet know what that “something good” will be.
Housing Search Continues
Folks, I know I’ve been a bad correspondent lately. But there’s a reason for that.
As I said a few months ago, I knew that my father’s house would be sold soon. As I’d stayed at this house for several years before he passed and continued after, it’s a big change to be looking for a new apartment. Mostly, it’s a welcome thing, because if I’ve proven one thing in the last two years since Dad died, I am not capable of taking care of lawn maintenance or snow shoveling or weeding or any of that.
Mind you, if I didn’t need a cane to walk with, and if I were more flexible, I possibly could’ve done some weeding or something with flowerbeds or whatnot. But shoveling snow, using a snow blower…just out. And using a lawn mower, or shears to cut back hedges…that’s a non-starter, too.
I have had great neighbors, here at Dad’s house. They have consistently bailed me out by shoveling the walks and the driveway, mowing the grass, cutting back the weeds…really, these are kind people, and I will miss them when I’m out of Dad’s house (as I will be in a few weeks).
Now, as I hadn’t blogged about it yet, you may be wondering why I said “housing search continues.” That’s because I’ve been discussing it at Facebook on my personal page, trying to give updates every day or two as to what I’m doing to find a new place.
Mostly, I’ve had some help in finding apartment waitlists that I hadn’t known about, and I found out today from the housing counselor (that’s what I’m calling him as he’s been enormously helpful) that because Michael was a Navy veteran with an honorable discharge, there may be a few more places available to me as his widow.
Still, there are two songs that keep rolling through my head. The first is Three Days Grace’s “Mayday,” which has lyrics like “the more you know you know you know nothing” (yes, they repeat “you know” three times in a row) and “it’s hard to keep fighting, when you’re barely surviving.” (The reason it’s called Mayday is because the group is talking about people who are in extremis that feel like everything they’re doing makes no sense. Yet they keep doing it, even if they “walk like dead people who haven’t died yet,” and even if they’re “going down, but not today. We’ll never say Mayday!”) The second is from the Architects and is called “Everything Ends.” (I think that is enough explanation for one day.)
The thing is, while everything does end, we often have to end something in order to begin something else. Many times, we have to get through a whole lot of stuff that makes us want to yell “Mayday!” and get help before we can get to anything good. And sometimes, it’s hard to remember there are good things out there still waiting, or good people also, because so much has happened that you can barely take it in.
I miss my Dad a lot, more than I’d expected (and I had expected to miss him greatly, so that says something). But to honor Dad’s memory, I have to try to get through this move — one of the seven great stressors even for a healthy, fully ambulatory person (sans cane) — and hope I do find the right place for me to settle in for a while.
Then, I can get back to writing more, editing more, and hopefully enjoying life a little more, too.
Anyway, I will try to write a blog next week or whenever I have some good news to share on the housing front. Either way, I will keep watching the Brewers (go Brewers!), doing what I can to help my Mom so long as my body will allow it, and continue to pack stuff up as best I can.
Wish me luck with this, hey?
Moving, Writing, Editing, and All…
Folks, my move has finally been completed.
The reason this took so long is because the person I used to live with decided to go into an apartment. I helped her move, along with other friends and family members, as well as move whatever of my things that I could, downsizing where need be of course.
As you might expect, writing has been scarce. Mostly I’ve been concerned with moving, a little with CHANGING FACES (about to go in to my publisher), a little with editing, and otherwise with letting my friends and family know that I’m still alive despite all this hard physical work.
I’m partially disabled and walk with a cane, as most of you know. Carrying boxes, even boxes made intentionally light, is not easy for me. Going up and down steps over and over again to try to figure out what needs to be taken to where, what can be donated to do some good elsewhere, and what needs to be scrapped was exhausting.**
So why did I do it, if it was so incredibly difficult? Mostly it’s because to refuse to help would be beneath contempt.
When someone needs my help, I try to help if it’s in my power. (If it’s not, I do what I can to pass them along to someone who can.) I don’t say, “Not my problem” or “You made your bed; lie in it.” I don’t see the point to that ninety-nine point nine percent of the time.
Yeah, there are few people I’d go to this limit for, but there was a reason for it. (I can’t say what it is, but someday, maybe, I’ll be able to do that.) And because I saw that reason, and understood that reason, I figured I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try as hard as I could to improve the situation and get my former housemate into that new apartment as best I could.
Anyway, my hope is that now, life will calm down a little, and I can get back to what I do best — writing, editing, playing music, and enjoying life as best I can.
Some days it’s harder to do all of that than others, but I am going to give it the best shot I can — as that’s what makes the most sense to me.
——–
**On the plus side, I guess I didn’t need a gym membership the last few weeks. (So there is that.)
Barb Caffrey's Blog 